The Other Woman
by Millie
Summary: Grace can't understand or fathom her feelings for Frankie so she tries to drink them away. Enter the sexy and pieced together Allison to confuse and distract everyone. 1/10
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Another martini wouldn't hurt, would it? To drown out the raucous, incessant thoughts that kept flickering through her mind at a rapidly increasing pace. The fear behind it, the uncertainty, the shock of what it would truly mean.

So she was at the bar. Because she certainly couldn't be at home, not feeling like this, not with these thoughts circling in her mind. Because if Grace Hanson was anything it was not transparent and right now she felt impossibly see-through. Like her outsides were on display and she was vulnerable and Grace hated vulnerability. Something _she_ seemed altogether too good at most times. Well, _she_ could always detect it within her and then _she_ would demand to know what it was that was on her mind and Grace, herself, could hardly tell what was on her mind.

She caught glimpses of it, bubbling up to the surface with intense clarity, surprisingly intense clarity, and then she would bury her lips in the burning vodka of her drink and wash it all away, back down to the hidden depths.

There had to be another explanation. They had gotten close, certainly, over the past couple of years. Of living side-by-side, sharing everything, their nightly routine, their business, their mornings, their afternoons…unless Jacob was there.

Grace gulped down another sip, hitting the bottom.

No, it wasn't right. Surely her mind had gone in the wrong direction and perhaps she could blame Robert because Robert had disrupted nature when he declared his love for Sol. It couldn't be that she, too, was a disrupter of nature. She was a society women – or had been until that had slipped through her fingers.

Well then what was she? Certainly she wasn't like Robert and Sol. That would be too poetic almost, too passé, cliché even.

If she thought back long enough, hard enough, she could see the one lone incident. At school. Her mind could barely close the gap between the present moment and that forever ago incident. A kiss. Soft, gentle, a joke on Jocelyn's part, but something so much more for Grace. She'd stuffed it away, traded it in, ran away from it for the comfort of Robert's half-hearted love. She could see it now, the years flying by in her mind as she put truth to each moment. The nights spent alone, the painful, unpleasant times of trying and conceiving Brianna and Mallory. It was like she had to trick Robert into it, coerce him, and then it was more a duty than a pleasure. It had not been until moving in with _her_ that she had even found pleasure in any of it.

Never mind where her mind had wandered the day they'd gotten the prototype vibrator.

Grace groaned, about to wave down the bartender again for another drink. These thoughts were not pleasant.

"Hello there." The voice startled Grace, forcing her to turn in her seat away from the bartender. The words were so close that she knew they were intended for her, though the voice took her by surprise. "Mind if I buy you a drink?"

Grace's eyes could only register the slinky black material that hugged at the curve of a hip, rounded inwards at a waist, the supple hint of breasts, a lightly tanned arm, the fall of deep brunette hair over the shoulder, eyes so intense that Grace could barely look them straight on. This was unfamiliar territory.

"I don't know if I should," she moved with efficient ease then, collecting up her purse, but the hand on her arm stopped her mid-movement.

"I won't bite," the woman laughed, her voice like honey. "Vodka martini I suppose?" And before Grace could protest she had waved down the bartender who had two martinis placed before them in a matter of seconds, as if this woman were a witch and could make anything appear or disappear with the snap of a perfectly manicured finger.

"I couldn't help but notice you sitting here alone. I hope you don't mind the intrusion. You just had this…this look about you." The woman had made herself at home in the seat beside Grace. Her eyes so intensely focused upon her as she spoke. There was a warmth about her, though, a kindness that made Grace's heart pound ever so slightly less.

"A look, hmm?" Grace buried her lips in the glass, fearful.

"Like maybe you needed a friend."

"I seem to have one of those." Grace laughed to herself tersely.

"You are a very striking woman, has anyone ever told you that?"

Grace nearly spat the sip of the martini she had just taken. The words too close to home. "I've heard it before, yes." Grace turned to this mystery woman, looking her over, accessing her again. She could hardly be a day over forty. She was a baby, a child nearly. What was it she wanted?

"My name's Allison." She extended her hand gracefully over the bar for Grace to take. Perhaps she was fifty, now that Grace could see her better in the light.

"Grace," Grace took her hand in return, her stomach knotting when their skin touched.

"Mmm, Grace. Beautiful, elegant." Allison released her hand and returned to her drink.

"What is it you want from me exactly?" Grace audaciously decided to cut to the chase, because she had never been good at mystery and intrigue. She had also learned that not speaking about something tended to result in too much mess and confusion. Resulted in years spent with the wrong man, spent living with a friend whom you had too many thoughts about.

Allison laughed, "nothing but to share a drink with you. I can't imagine you would be at all interested in me, but I must say I was intrigued when I saw you sitting her alone ignoring that lingering look of that tall and handsome gentleman over there." Allison nodded with her head and Grace found her eyes betraying her before she could help herself. There was a rather tanned gentleman with _that look_ in his eyes. She could not deny his interest, and yet she had not noticed him.

"I imagine you've just gone through a break up, or you're pining over someone." Allison intuitively guessed.

"You're rather perceptive, aren't you?" Grace sighed. "And what is it you mean by not interested? You seem like a beautiful woman who could have any guy in this room and who has a firm hold on who she is. I like that in women."

Allison's eyebrow rose, "maybe you're more interesting than I thought, Grace." It felt then as if Allison's body moved in ever so slightly more, as if they were alone in this room together. An intimacy grew and flourished.

Grace had to be misreading the situation. She shrugged and sipped her drink to put some distance back, to build back a shattered wall.

"It's always hard for me to know. I have shit luck when it comes to meeting people I am actually interested in." Allison swirled the martini glass between her fingers.

"Perhaps tall dark and handsome was interested in you." Grace spoke without looking up from the clear surface of her drink.

"He's not of interest to me. There was someone else here that I found more to my liking."

"How about that." Grace could not deny it any longer. She was not in high school anymore trying to guess if John liked Jane or if Evelyn liked Steve. This was an adult conversation and she felt fragile, yet with interest piqued. "Perhaps that person might have found someone to her liking as well." Grace picked up the martini and drank down the rest of its contents, cursing herself for having such a horrible habit.

"Well, perhaps my radar actually served me well this evening." Allison's burgundy fingernails slid lithely over Grace's hand, sending a chill through her.

Oh God. Was this what Grace thought it was? Had that really just happened? Was that intense gaze meant for her?

"I sense that you're new to all of this." Allison removed her grazing fingertips, picking up her drink with a cool calmness.

"I've never…" Grace could hardly finish the sentence, let alone the thought. Fucked a woman? Fell in love with a woman? Thought about a woman that way?

But all of that wasn't true.

Allison smiled, "I'm not pressuring you into anything, am I?"

"No, not at all." Grace felt her pull away and instantly she wanted it, more than she had ever wanted anything before. If she couldn't have _her_ than perhaps this was the perfect solution. A way to test the waters, to know for a fact that Grace Hanson was (or was not) in fact capable of relations with a woman. "If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting we certainly can't go to my place." Grace spoke with more gusto than she felt.

Allison chuckled beside her. "No need to rush it along, though I wouldn't mind taking you home with me for a nice bottle of wine, or perhaps some tea to clear our heads?" The offer was genuine and something about it felt comfortable. Going home didn't seem to be a clear option so this was the next best idea to a bar. Yes, home with this enticing younger woman to her spacious fifteenth floor apartment covered in windows and all the modern appliances and décor of a city gal who would enjoy a nice breakfast and a cup of tea atop the greyish – white couch wrapped up in a soft fur blanket after a morning workout. This was the life Grace ascribed to her as they entered into the luxurious, near hotel-esque condo.

Grace felt her palms were sweaty, her bearings completely off. Had she lost her mind? She'd allowed herself to actually go home with a complete stranger?

Allison turned and smiled at her though, a comforting smile, and Grace could only smile back. It appeared, then, that Allison was so very near in that instant. Had they been standing this close? Grace clung to her purse a little tighter, her body feeling lightweight and fluttery. There was an excitement about it, an anticipation that Grace had never yet felt before in her life. How could she have gone nearly 80 years without feeling this?

Allison's fingertips caressed her cheeks, her body stepping closer, those eyes searching Grace's face for the okay.

She was afraid, more afraid than she had ever been, but there was a warmth about the moment, about how gentle Allison was as she caressed her gently. Grace's hands moved of their own accord, her fingers lightly covering the soft fabric at Allison's sides.

"I want to kiss you, is that alright?" Allison's thumb brushed lightly over Grace's lips.

Why else had she brought her here? Why else had Grace followed her?

Grace pulled with her fingers, finding flesh beneath the black garment. Allison's lips were on hers in a matter of seconds, warm and soft, firm. The kiss lingered, elongated, made Grace dizzy with a rich sexual need. "Oh God," she whispered against Allison.

Allison's lips explored the curve of her chin, the soft, tender flesh of her neck, the nape of her neck. No one had ever kissed her this way before in her life. Her first kiss from Jocelyn had been inconsequential compared to Allison's lips. Robert was a distant, long forgotten memory. All that mattered was what these divine lips were doing to her.

Allison chuckled under her breath. "Shall I get you a cup of tea?" She held herself back, the contact immediately missed.

Grace was panting, her breathing erratic. Why would she want tea? At a time like this? Slow down, girl. Grace thought to herself. Yes, tea would be good. Tea would get her head on straight and maybe she could go home and forget this happened. "I would like that." Grace nodded, her hands retracted, moved to her sides.

Allison pulled off her heels, settled her bag on a side table and swept into the kitchen to start a kettle. Grace followed suit, for what else could she do? Apart from leaving like a sane person. But something pulled her forward, pulled her into the kitchen, to watch as Allison stood with her hip up against the counter, their eyes locked. "You're a wonderful kisser." Allison grinned, reaching out her hand for Grace who found herself drawn forward from her awkward position at the entranceway to the kitchen. This was not her home and she did not know how to behave, but Allison made her feel comfortable. And as her arm slid about her, Grace leaned up – for now without heels Allison was a good bit taller than she – and their lips found one another again and again.

The tea kettle clicked off and Allison moved to gather tea cups and opened her tea cabinet. "I would recommend the rooibos or the vanilla, though perhaps you're more a mint girl."

"The vanilla tea sounds nice." Grace shrugged.

"Vanilla, hmm." Allison smiled to herself as she pulled two packets from the vanilla tea box. "I'm not sure much about you is vanilla."

"And what does that mean?" Grace shot back.

Allison turned, "I didn't mean to offend you."

Grace sighed, "you didn't." She took the cup graciously. "I just suppose I wish I were more vanilla."

Allison sipped her tea and regarded Grace, "why don't we go sit in the living room." She wrapped her arm about Grace, her hand at the small of her back guiding her down several steps into the spotless lounge spot overlooking all of the city.

"It's beautiful." Grace whispered, overcome by the view, what it was she was doing, where she was.

"Yes, it is." Though Allison's eyes were on her.

They sat side-by-side, leg-to-leg, Allison's arm stretched out behind Grace as if they had always sat this way, so very close beside one another.

Grace peered down into the depths of the dark tea, her mind circling, reeling in the silence. "I suppose you know I've never done this before."

"That's why I'm going slow, my dear." Allison laughed.

"I like this." Grace smiled at her and Allison leaned in to kiss her.

"What was bothering you before?" Allison inquired, her tone suddenly a bit darker, her curiosity getting the best of her.

Grace sighed and leaned back against the couch. It was a very comfortable couch. The room was very comfortable, yet sparse. She knew that _she_ would never be able to keep such an immaculate house and suddenly Grace felt she liked Allison a whole lot.

And then she thought of _her_ again and why she had been at the bar in the first place. What to tell Allison? She didn't want her to think she didn't want this because she most certainly did want this.

"Trouble with a friend." She decided would be safe.

"Ah, I see. A _friend_." Allison nodded.

"Now see, it's not like that." Grace pointed her finger, beginning to come out of her protective shell a little bit more, daring to lightly drop her fingers against that oh-so-soft material encasing the body of the woman beside her. Allison's hand captured hers, pressing it against her thigh.

"Of course it's not." Allison didn't seem convinced.

"I don't want to talk about it." Grace insisted, allowing their fingers to entwine atop Allison's leg.

"That's why you didn't want us to go to your place earlier? You have someone at home?" Allison guessed.

Grace couldn't begin to tell Allison about it. "Not a man, if that's what you're thinking. Oh no, my ex-husband left me for _her_ husband. Isn't that hilarious?"

"Who is 'her'?" Damn. What had Grace said now?

"Oh, my-" What was she to her? Roommate? Friend? Business partner? Love interest? God. "Must we really talk about this?"

"I wouldn't mind not talking," Allison slipped the tea cup from Grace's hand and turned to face her, lips covering hers again as fingers found their way to the button-up top that clad Grace's torso. One perfectly manicured hand found its way delightfully beneath the wire of her bra and brushed her nipple with a gentle thumb. She flinched, surprised and delighted by the sensation.

"Take me to bed," Grace whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Shit. Fuck.

There were fifteen missed phone calls on her phone. Fifteen and just as she brought the phone up to where she could see the screen the device started buzzing away again. It felt so angry in Grace's palm as she rode the elevator from the fifteenth floor, feeling oh so good, but now oh so horrible.

Frankie.

Frankie's name flashed again and again on the display.

Frankie was calling.

Frankie had been forgotten the night before. Somewhere between the spans of kisses and caresses and the way Allison had made her feel, where Allison had placed her hands, her lips, her tongue, that amazing tongue. Grace felt her cheeks flush red at the thought.

She slid her sunglasses over her eyes, as if she might shield herself, that she could cover up the fact that she was taking the walk of shame.

And how could she hide from Frankie?

"Hello?" She did the only thing she could think to do.

"Thank God! I thought you were dead." Frankie's voice filled the line and it was too much in that moment. Grace pressed herself into the elevator wall, bracing herself.

"Well that's certainly a very dramatic place for your mind to go." She sarcastically quipped, somehow able to find her voice. With less bite.

"We're old, Grace, anything could happen! You've been so vigilant about stroke number three that I was shocked when you weren't in the kitchen this morning to help me with my blood pressure." Fuck, Grace moaned to herself.

She slid from the elevator, averting her gaze away from the doorman. "I will be home very soon."

"You better have a really good explanation, Grace Hanson."

"I do, Frankie. I just stepped out, is all. I'll be right there very soon. Don't eat those tatter tots. Promise me you'll put them down. I'll be home to cook you a proper breakfast very soon."

"You know me so well, mother. But you better have a better explanation than that."

"I'll see you at home." Grace huffed before ending the call.

She felt tears stinging at her eyes as she blindly searched for her car, finally resorting to the panic button. She clamored to the car, pulled herself safely inside before the first tear cascaded over, finding herself incapable of stopping it. Now she would have to sit here a moment longer to make sure her eyes weren't red, to make sure she was put together and steady and strong for Frankie. Frankie who may be leaving her, Frankie whom had not yet spoken of Jacob, but who had agreed he was a good man, a man she loved. And what could Grace do about it but sit and wait…and sleep with Allison. Oh God.

It took a good fifteen minutes to pull herself together and then a rather long drive home. By then she was stoically laced back together, her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses though the redness had subsided. She looked practically normal.

"Grace, where in the world have you been? Did you take an early morning drive and forget to come back?" Frankie was at the door before she could even slip out of her shoes.

"I stayed at a hotel last night, couldn't drive." Grace found herself offering as a reasonable excuse. It sounded almost legitimate.

"I could have picked you up if you got too drunk at a bar, which is what I suspect happened. Grace, why wouldn't you have called me? I was worried sick. What if that intruder had returned and you weren't here to protect me?" Frankie followed like a puppy, hot on her heels, to the kitchen.

"Well you made me get rid of the gun, so how would I have protected you anyway."

"Don't joke about such things." Frankie stomped her foot against the ground.

Grace chuckled, finding that maybe she could control this situation. Maybe she could do what she had just done and be able to come back to Frankie and act as if nothing had changed, could act as if she didn't…

Frankie's arms were about her, holding her close and she couldn't breathe for a moment.

"Frankie!" Grace shoved at her, her only defense mechanism to push the woman away.

"Was it that horrible man who sued us? Did you really enjoy your date so much with him?" Frankie pried herself away and inquired.

"No, of course not. We had a deal. One lunch and that was it. By the way, we need to package some more vibrators this afternoon." Grace stopped mid-reaching for the pan when her back gave her some trouble. She winced in pain and rubbed at the spot.

"You're sore." Frankie noted, instantly moving to help rub at Grace's side, but it only served to aggravate her.

"Frankie, I'm fine. I must have slept strangely." Or bent backwards too many times.

"Why are you acting like this?" The wool was not pulled over her eyes. She could see Grace and her curiosity was not satiated.

"Why do you keep touching me?" Grace found herself asking defensively with the frying pan in her hand.

"I didn't know it bothered you so much." Frankie stepped away slightly. "You've been different. Ever since that day in the hot air balloon. You've been different."

"Frankie, I haven't." Grace insisted, pulling out some toast to make French toast. "Now, have you checked your blood pressure?"

Frankie kept eyeing her, there was a distrust, an uncertainty left between them. "No, I haven't." She finally resigned to the fact and Grace moved to the end of the counter to pick up the device. Frankie rolled back her sleeve and Grace's fingers moved with practiced ease to secure the cuff about Frankie's smooth, silky skin. She patted her hand as they stood together waiting.

The fleeting thought of turning to Frankie and kissing her passed in an instant and as soon as the numbers appeared on the device and all was within normal range Grace returned to her spot at the stove.

"Have you given any more thought to Santa Fe?" Grace asked, feeling a glutton for some kind of punishment this morning.

"Grace," Frankie moaned, knowing this was a sore topic for her. Knowing it was hard for Grace to have said what she said and to have released her to the option of going. "Jacob already left. We might meet up when he comes back."

"Might? I think it would be good to talk with him again." Though something within Grace felt happy that Jacob was gone for now. Jacob was far, far away.

"Grace, we don't have to talk about this." Frankie insisted as she sat the plate of French toast before her. "Are my pills in this?" Frankie asked, searching for a way to get off the subject of Jacob.

"Of course, just the way you like them." Grace offered her a winning smile but it seemed to fall flat.

She finally had a moment to retreat to her room, to hide away and shower off the glorious feel of the previous evening. Though now her body hummed to a different need, a need she knew would surface upon walking into the beach house's door. How was it that Frankie could so easily touch her and intuitively know without her having to say anything? Frankie was there in a panic, worried about her. Robert wouldn't have even noticed her absence. All these years she could have been sneaking around behind his back just as he had done to her, and he wouldn't have cared. But Frankie…Frankie cared. And perhaps Frankie deserved to know but Grace wasn't ready to tell her. Grace wasn't ready to unearth this little foray into uncharted territory. Somehow she knew Frankie would understand, but somehow she also knew that it might hurt Frankie and she didn't want to hurt Frankie. Not right now, not after what had happened with Jacob and knowing that in a way Frankie had chosen her over Jacob – at least for now.

She emerged from the shower to find her cellphone vibrating on the bedside table. She picked it up and felt a strange flutter in her chest.

"Hello there." She settled on top of her bed, pressing the phone into the crook of her neck so she could reach for her lotion.

"I just wanted to check in on you. After last night. How are you feeling?" Allison's voice was a wave of comfort. She was considerate to call.

"I'm…I'm feeling very good." Grace muttered, realizing she was not good at expressing how she felt. Not in words anyway.

"As am I. I wondered if you'd like to have dinner with me. Next Tuesday." Allison sounded so confident.

Dinner, dinner wouldn't be so bad, would it? "I would love to have dinner with you."

"Wonderful, shall I pick you up?"

"No!" Grace nearly shouted, but then reigned herself in. "No, I can meet you there."

"Ah ha, this mystery _her_ lives with you I'm guessing?" Allison guessed.

Grace didn't want to talk about _her_. "I just feel more comfortable driving there to meet you, is all." And she would still have to explain her absence to Frankie. The gymnastics of it seemed exhausting already. How perfectly choreographed she would have to be to get out the door without Frankie nailing her with a hundred questions. But she wanted, no needed to get away for a bit, to clear her head and to see Allison again. Allison made her forget.

"I'll send you details, my dear. I look forward to seeing you again." Allison's smile was evident through the phone.

"Sounds lovely, thanks for checking in." Grace smiled as she hung up.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Grace, I thought we could watch this nature documentary that Coyote recorded on that box on the television. Well, I thought we could watch it if you could help me figure out which button to press." Frankie was angrily holding a remote and pressing every button imaginable when Grace made her way furtively down the stairs.

"It might work better if you weren't using the garage door opener, Frankie." Grace swept into the living room and plucked the door opener – how Frankie had even managed to find the object in the house was beyond her – and instead picked up the remote that Brianna had shown her how to operate when they'd installed the darn DVR. "You just click here," the menu came up, "and then scroll down here," she located the nature documentary, "and then press here."

"Hey, you got pretty good at that. Will you give me a tutorial later?" Frankie turned to see Grace, to really look at her and paused.

"What?" Grace felt subconscious with Frankie staring her down in such a manner.

"I thought you weren't seeing that corporate asshole." Frankie sounded annoyed.

"I'm not." Grace fluffed at her hair, wondering if she'd gone overboard with the slinky black dress, the gold necklace and matching earring set, the light spritz of perfume, the slightly darker smoky eye. From Frankie's reaction she either looked like her old self from her cocktails at the clubhouse days, or else she was an alien. Grace couldn't quite decipher the look that held Frankie's face suspended in such an odd manner.

"Grace, where are you going?" Frankie demanded, the nature documentary forgotten.

Grace shifted the purse on her arm and sighed, "just out. To meet a friend. For dinner."

"You don't have friends." Frankie got up, moving in on her.

"Of course I do." Grace insisted.

"Not friends you get this dressed up for." Frankie was livid.

"She's…she's an old friend. From way back." Grace lied through her teeth.

"She?" Frankie looked near dumbfounded at that little curveball.

"Yes, she. See, no corporate asshole. Now I have a seven o'clock reservation so I must be going. But do let me know how the nature documentary is." Grace tried to keep the air light, to ride over the tense, edgy look on Frankie's face.

"You have some 'splaining to do, Lucy." Frankie pointed with crooked finger and Grace found herself covering the accusatory hand in her own.

"It's just dinner, Frankie. I'll be back to make you breakfast in the morning. Promise." She squeezed the hand trapped in her own.

"Just what does that mean? Not planning on coming home?"

"Frankie, please."

Frankie sighed, looking defeated. Was that a look of jealousy? Certainly not. "Go. Go. Leave me to my documentary."

Grace nearly sprinted from the home then, as fast as a seventy-year-old could sprint, and made it to her car before she sank down in its leather interior. She closed her eyes and inhaled then exhaled, reigning herself in. Yes, she needed this dinner tonight.

Allison was waiting for her, looking ever more elegant this evening than she had only the night before, if that was possible. Grace had to marvel at the fact that she had waited so long to experience this with another person, to feel the way she had last Friday evening, to now know what it felt to be with a woman who could do things to her that no one had ever been able to do before. How foolish she had been when she was younger. Why had she waited so long to experience this?

The brunette stood and pressed her lips to Grace's cheek as she approached the table. "So sorry I'm late." Grace exclaimed for her run-in with Frankie had put her behind. But Frankie was not to be on her mind this evening.

"No problem, darling. You look stunning this evening." Allison beamed as she held her away from her to take her in. This was the look that Grace had wished from Frankie. _No_ , stop thinking such things.

"As do you." Grace took her seat, settling her bag down. She realized that she was nervous. There were no words to describe it, the way her heart beat a little faster. Only a year ago she would have never been caught dead on an actual date with a woman! To think! But now, here she was. Stepping out into the unknown. It was as if Frankie had opened up this strange new door for her and she was slowly slipping her toe in. And she liked it. More than liked it.

"I thought we'd start with a martini and go from there."

"Sounds like heaven to me." Grace laughed, feeling again at ease in Allison's presence. Slowly she slipped into a void of Frankie. She was distracted, taken by the tantalizing woman before her. They spoke easily, freely. All the things that had been left unspoken the evening they'd met for that had been…well, it had been fireworks. That was all Grace knew to explain it. Bodies molding together, forming and reforming, lips and hands, legs wrapped about, careful and cautious, yet wild with abandon. She felt a stirring between her legs and forced herself to focus again on what it was that Allison was saying.

"I was with Sharon for nearly two decades. Can you believe it? And then she went out and found herself an even younger woman." Allison laughed.

"It seems I've found myself a younger woman." Grace's finger traced about the rim of her glass.

"Oh come now." Allison shrugged her off.

"No, really. How old do you think I am?" Grace insisted.

"You can't be a day over….sixty-five."

Grace nearly spat out her martini. "And how old does that make you? Thirty-five?"

"Try fifty-eight." Allison grinned.

"Close. Might as well be thirty-five."

Allison chuckled. "You're certainly not old enough to be my mother so don't even try that tired line."

"I'll be seventy-three this year." Grace waited for a shocked reaction but Allison just covered her hand ever so slightly.

"That's beautiful. Women only grow wiser and more beautiful with age."

"Then I must be very wise and very beautiful." Grace quipped sarcastically and finished off her martini just as the main course arrived.

"I would say you're definitely very beautiful." Allison spoke assuredly and Grace flushed. "So you must tell me about this _her_ that you speak of so often."

Oh, God. "You brought _her_ up earlier on the phone."

"But you would have mentioned _her_." Allison looked at her pointedly. "Why else wouldn't I be allowed to pick you up at your home?"

Grace sighed, letting her fork rest at the edge of her plate. She had momentarily lost her appetite. Why would Allison have to bring _her_ up at such a lovely moment in their conversation?

" _Her_ is my ex-husband's husband's ex-wife Frankie. I live with her in a beach house we shared when we were married. To our ex-husbands. Of course." Grace had no idea how to describe her.

"Ah, so it's this Frankie that you have feelings for?" Allison pressed.

"Is this appropriate conversation for such an occasion?" Grace would give anything to get off the subject. After all, weren't they on a date with one another? Why would Allison be at all interested in her failed – what was it? – crush?

"Grace, we're ladies of a certain age. We don't need to dance around our feelings anymore. We need to grasp on to what we want and take it. Of course, I don't want you to run off with this Frankie woman, but it seemed like you needed to talk about it. I'm an ear to listen."

"That's very kind of you." Grace smiled, finding Allison's fingers atop the table. The pads of her fingers brushed lightly over the skin, as if for reassurance. "I suppose," well she had never put words to it before. She had only ever thought it late at night. It felt intangible. "I have…had feelings for her. They clouded my judgement and I might have messed up a serious relationship that she's involved in."

"What happened?"

"Well he, Jacob, wanted to move to Santa Fe and then she had a minor stroke and it…it scared me. I didn't want her to go. I hadn't wanted her to go anyway, but the stroke…it really shook me and I couldn't let go."

"And now she's not going?" Allison ventured.

Grace just nodded, her head buried in her lap, ashamed.

"It sounds like she cares for you as well," Allison's fingers linked with Grace's atop the table.

Grace just half-heartedly laughed. "I suppose so, but she's been so mad at me." Grace wiped at her eye, willing herself to not cry. "This is ridiculous. Let's not talk about her."

Allison squeezed her hand. "You better not leave that salmon fillet untouched. The best salmon around, or so I've been told."

Grace smiled, relieved to not be talking about _her_.

Relieved when they ventured back to the apartment on the fifteenth floor and Allison undressed her, led her to the bedroom, made her feel, made her forget again that Frankie existed.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The door clicked shut as quietly behind Grace as she could possibly will it. She was scotch free for all she knew, up at five in the morning to trapeze across town to make it home before sunrise, before questions from Frankie could surface. She felt quite possibly like a teenager again, a giddiness evaded her senses, spread across her chest in a pleasant curl for only a few moments later and she would be up in her room, showered and refreshed with even the possibility of a few hours of sleep before Frankie would even stir from sleep.

Yes, only a few steps more and she would be home free, would have any sign of Allison washed from her, though the sensation from the previous night left her feeling high. Higher than any pot might. How two bodies could do such things, how she felt no need for the vibrator upon which she was amassing a small fortune, was quite perplexing. How she had kept sex with a woman from herself for so long made her heart ache just a little bit, an exquisite pain for all those wasted years, yet beautiful for it was bittersweet to experience it now. To feel what a passionate kiss could feel like, what a gentle, caring caress conveyed. Grace had never felt this way before, had never been treated in such a manner. Not by Phil and especially not by Robert.

She had stalled too long in the entranceway. Something stirred and her heart hammered in her chest, fear paralyzing her, freezing her to the spot. Something had moved.

The TV was on, had been on since the night they were robbed, but she had not noticed the body in the chair. She flashed back to the night she had shot at dummy Frankie and wondered if this was dummy Frankie II. She willed herself to reign in her fear, to be strong. For either Frankie or her look-alike could not harm her. And she no longer had her gun.

Plus it had moved, it had to be…

"Grace," Frankie's voice sounded so tired, so devoid of her normal cheer. She sounded her age in the early morning light and Grace felt her heart thud. "Grace, is that you?"

"Yes, Frankie."

"You're not an intruder? We don't have a gun anymore so I'll just have to defeat you with my tai chi moves." Frankie was slowly waking, regaining her bearings.

"I don't think you could hurt anyone with your tai chi moves." Grace sighed, settling her bag down atop the counter before moving into the sitting area. So much for trying to disguise her late-night antics. She was still wearing the black dress from the previous evening, the gold jewelry somewhere at the bottom of her purse now, her hair a mess. She wished she could smooth it all over, sneak up the stairs and change in a flash and come back when Frankie was really awake. But she was too old to move that quickly, reminded of this when her hip creaked.

"Why are you just getting back, Grace? You know I can't sleep when you're not here." Frankie groaned, watching Grace as she moved to sit in the chair beside her. Grace felt her body sink down into the fabric of the chair, exhaustion coming on. She was not a twenty-one-year-old anymore. Not that she had ever been a normal twenty-one-year-old anyway – no one night stands or messing around with college boys. No, Robert had been her one and only. Unfortunately. She had missed so much, and now she was making it up. All of it and it was too much.

"How would you have survived in Santa Fe with just Jacob then?" Grace spoke without thinking, too early to sensor herself.

"Really Grace, you know that's a sensitive subject for me. Why do you keep bringing it up? Why?" Frankie turned to her, sleep no longer evident in her tired eyes, only pain and sadness.

"I'm sorry, Frankie, I-" I'm just too tired. I just had too much sex trying not to think about such things.

"I'll forgive you this once if you'll just tell me where you've really been, Grace. You owe me that. I don't want to be in this big house without you at night." Frankie looked so fearful.

Grace reached out to take her hand, holding it gently in the reassurance and apology that she could not quite verbalize. "It was a late night."

"With your friend." Frankie looked on at Grace with that pained, knowledgeable look that told Grace that she didn't want to be lied to.

"With my friend." Grace patted Frankie's hand. "Her name is Allison."

"So it's really a _she_?" Frankie looked out at the moonlit ocean stretched out before them through the living room windows.

"It is a she." Grace confirmed.

"She must be a good talker if she can keep you out this late." Frankie's voice was low, haunted sounding.

Grace couldn't respond. She squeezed Frankie's hand and then broke the contact, feeling embarrassed.

"I never thought you were straight and narrow by any stretch of the imagination." Frankie's voice broke into the morning mumble of their home, shocking Grace.

"Well I've certainly been able to resist your charms." Grace tried to play it off, thinking that if she hit the nail on the head then perhaps it would advert the truth of the matter.

"Oh, please. I haven't even given you the real Frankie Bergstein treatment yet." Frankie laughed to herself.

Grace didn't laugh, found herself incapable.

"Grace," Frankie's voice sounded concerned. She would get to the heart of the matter. "You're a strong, independent woman and you have every right to sleep with a woman. It's a beautiful experience, truly." Frankie sounded as serious as Grace had ever heard her sound.

"I suppose so." Grace didn't like the sound in her tone. It bordered on upset, but Grace couldn't fathom why. For all the jokes Frankie made about sleeping with her she never thought the woman wanted to follow through. No, this was what Grace needed, to sex Frankie out of her mind. It was bad enough she had to come home and see her here in this home that was theirs without being "theirs", hear her joke about seducing her when her heart was not in it at all. And wouldn't they ruin it all if they dared to attempt it…

"Why couldn't you just tell me, Grace? We're not teenagers anymore…even if I did get high and eat all the potato chips in the house."

"Frankie, I absolutely told you not to eat those. Remember sodium!" Grace snapped, concern for her friend disrupting her flow of self-concern.

"Hey, no taking yourself out of the spotlight on this one, missy. You've told me about everyone before and don't give me that bull that you didn't say anything because it was a woman." Frankie always wanted to go deep and Grace wasn't sure she could go deep, wasn't sure she had it in her to explain it all because the truth would hurt, the truth would repel, would alter their relationship and she wasn't ready, was too chicken to venture down that path.

"I don't know, Frankie." Grace rubbed at her forehead. She wanted sleep and to not talk about this with _her_. "It was different and out-of-character for me. I just, I wasn't ready to tell you."

"Would you have told me?" Frankie looked at her, her tired face etched with worry. Grace wanted to wipe it away, to make her believe that she hadn't meant to keep anything from her, that she would rather it be her that she was sleeping with, but that it wasn't right, couldn't be right because Frankie loved Jacob.

"Of course, if it…if it became serious." Grace shrugged, wishing that she could keep Allison and Frankie separate. For they were two very different entities offering two very different, valuable pieces to her life. To the life she was only beginning to live at seventy-two.

"I want to meet her." Frankie spoke definitively. There would be no getting out of this.

"Frankie," Grace groaned. The thought of these two very different women in a room together made Grace's head pound. Yes, she could feel a sleep deprivation headache coming on. She wanted to pull her tired body up the stairs and collapse into her bed.

She wanted – suddenly in that moment – to fall asleep and then to wake up to gentle arms about her, to sweet kisses, not sneaking around. These were her years to enjoy how she pleased and she wanted to be loved and taken care of. These thoughts quite surprised her, for she had assumed she would remain relationship-free, man-free. But that was before she met Allison, before the idea of a woman had even crossed her mind. Now, now she wanted to enjoy herself and her life and have all that she had deprived herself of for the last few decades.

It was too painful to think about this early. Too far away, too distant. She couldn't promise Frankie a meal with Allison. Could she? It would be torturous.

"I want to meet this woman who turned you gay." Frankie nudged her, breaking the tension that lingered in the air between them.

Grace lightly smiled, wondering if she were gay at all, had always been gay, or had just realized it? What did it matter though? Gay, straight, bi….it all felt meaningless. It was just a person who could love you. A person who could care for you and didn't everyone deserve to experience that once in their life? Frankie had Jacob so Grace deserved someone. Allison served the purpose, Allison was healing her, teaching her that there was more to love and sex than the half-hearted motions Robert put her through.

"Alright." She was too tired to think hard enough to find a valid excuse so her only way out was to agree. It didn't mean she had to immediately follow through, it just meant she could leave this conversation, this tired, strangely tainted moment between herself and Frankie. Things were off and she didn't like it.

"Good. Now I can sleep peacefully knowing you weren't abducted by aliens or stolen for the black market. I'm sure they could do something with your tiny body parts." Frankie swatted at Grace's arm and pulled her tired body up from the chair, her joints calling out in protest.

Grace steadied her with her arm, letting her hand rest on the base of Frankie's back for a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's okay. Your first time with a woman can be a beautiful, private experience. I'm proud of you Grace." Frankie captured her hand between her own and patted it tenderly. "To bed with me. My protector has returned."

Grace nodded, watching as Frankie retreated to her studio. There were tears in her eyes as she watched, clinging to her lashes. How was it that the older she got the more she cried?

Her body was exhausted, her mind running a thousand miles a minute and she couldn't keep up, felt run down. Too tired to make it up the stairs now, she pulled the blanket that Frankie had left behind atop herself and cuddled into the chair's fabric. It wasn't comfortable, but the blanket smelled of Frankie – a mix of incense and a faint hint of pot and something natural, earthy. She held it to her face and breathed until she fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"Grace's first girlfriend. Whatever would the country club women say about _that_?" Frankie fluttered through the kitchen as Grace finished tossing the salad she had made for the impending lunch that was already doing her head in. It was as if she had woken with a migraine that morning.

"I'm sure they'd have a field day with it." Grace muttered under her breath. "Frankie, would you stop circling the kitchen and go sit down?"

Frankie held up her hands like a caught little child and Grace found in one a cookie.

"Really Frankie, we're about to have lunch and you're eating a cookie?" Grace groaned, reaching for the offending piece of food. "Worse than a toddler." She mumbled, hiding the treat away for after lunch.

"I got a little high and had the munchies."

"Oh, Frankie! Why would you do that today? Of all days to get high. I specifically wanted you to not be high." Grace felt her fingers curling into fists.

Frankie chuckled, "I have some more left if you'd like to get a little stoned before your girlfriend arrives."

"No Frankie." Grace pushed at her, "go into the living room and do something else. You're bothering me."

"Why are you so tense man?" Frankie coolly spoke as Grace's hands led her to the couch like a punished little kid. She was a child, she was acting like a child and Allison would be here in – Grace looked at her watch – less than five minutes.

"I want my roommate to behave like a normal human." Grace snapped.

"Oh, should I go put on one of your power suits and pretend to be like Cynthia from the club?" Frankie settled in the chair as if she were royalty, offended by Grace's remark.

"No," Grace steadied herself, "no, Frankie. I want you to be you. I just want you to behave." Grace remembered, realized that she was projecting her own fears onto her friend. For she had told Allison of Frankie, Allison knew of her harried feelings, her confused passions for this woman. This woman who was now mimicking a queen and blowing kisses to a fake crowd. What had she been thinking?

But she could see how Frankie viewed this as Grace being ashamed of her. And she was not – well at least not when they were alone. But this would be Allison's introduction to the woman whom Grace had grown close to over the past few years since their husbands ended up gay for one another. Frankie, in all her stoned glory would greet Allison – the most put together woman Grace had seen in years, the most elegant, the most poised. And here was Frankie, now examining the fabric of the couch in some kind of distracted trance. She was so very opposite of Allison, of the world Grace had envisioned for herself.

Grace exhaled, exasperated. She wondered if she actually might have time to get a little stoned herself. Perhaps it would make the headache go away.

But the doorbell rang and Frankie was on her feet like a cat, ready to pounce.

"I will get the door, don't touch that cookie again when I turn my back." Grace admonished as she headed towards the front door.

She felt the air rush from her lungs when she opened the door to find Allison in dark wash jeans, a navy-blue shirt, light tan jacket, looking as polished as ever. "It's so good to see you, Grace." Allison extended her hand in which was a small bouquet of pink roses.

"Oh, you didn't have to do that." Grace smiled, surprised when Allison's hands wrapped about her middle, pulling her in close to cover her lips with a kiss.

"Grace," Frankie was upon them and Grace was unprepared. She broke from the kiss, from Allison and turned to acknowledge her friend.

"Yes, Frankie. This is my friend. Allison. Allison, this is Frankie." Grace fell back to allow them to shake hands or do what it was that two women might. She could hardly watch this collision, could not see what it was that Allison thought of this woman whom she lived with, shared a home with, had professed feelings for.

"Well aren't you just a real doll?" Frankie had latched onto Allison's hand, shaking it adamantly, staring her up and down.

"So nice to meet you, Frankie. I've heard so much." Allison's smile seemed affixed to her lips. Grace saw now crack, no judgement from her as to the haphazard state of her roommate.

"Really? Grace has barely spoken about you." Frankie - too blunt because of her blunt - spoke.

Grace nudged at her, "knock it off Frankie." Grace turned apologetically to Allison. "Please come in, have a seat." She motioned to the round table inside the doorway, all set with some nice blue napkins, plates of food, and some fresh flowers Grace had purchased for herself that morning. "I'll put these in some water." Grace took the flowers and Allison surprised her by pulling her into another kiss.

"Well isn't that just so sweet." Frankie stood to the side, clasping her hands together before her like a chaste little school girl.

Grace turned from Allison, walking deliberately past Frankie. "Knock it off." She stage-whispered and then disappeared into the kitchen, fear wrapping itself about her. For who knew what Frankie would say or do next. There was no telling.

"You're a very beautiful lesbian. I can see why my little Grace has come out of her shell for you. You have such magnificent hair."

Grace's eyes nearly bulged out of her head upon hearing the remark traveling through the home that suddenly felt too cramped, too crowded for the three of them. She could just see it now, Frankie would be fondling the poor woman's hair – as nice as it was – and Grace had to interfere before Allison decided Frankie was a feral being and would politely have to leave. "Lunch is ready," Grace announced loudly, turning the corner to find a scene, unfortunately, much as she had imagined it. "Frankie, please try to behave."

"Will you let me have gummy bears in my salad if I do?" Frankie dropped the dark locks of soft, luscious hair that Grace, herself, had reveled in for hours on end and somehow it felt like a line had been crossed. That was her person, that was her hair to touch, that was her Frankie touching it.

Grace rolled her eyes to the ceiling. "Yes, if you promise to sit down and stop pestering our guest. I am very sorry, Allison." Grace dared to look the woman in the eyes and saw a slight glitter of amusement. There was no judgement, as she had thought there would be, only an intrigued, curious gaze. There was some unspoken comment that passed between them before Grace excused herself to rummage up the hidden gummy bears before returning to the dining area to find Frankie staring Allison down as if it were a standoff.

They sat opposite one another, leaving Grace to fill in the middle and she decided it was good, right for her to act the buffer between the two women.

"This looks lovely, Grace." Allison lightly brushed her hand as she took in the assortment of sandwiches, salad, and fruit atop the table.

"Really Grace, you outdid yourself." Frankie patted her hand in dramatic fashion, some sort of rebuttal and Grace inwardly grimaced.

And while it had started rough they soon found a rhythm, Frankie keeping her comments to a bare minimum until mid-bite of her gummy bear salad (which made Grace want to vomit just to look at). "And what is it you do Allison?" Frankie held her fork haphazardly, in a nearly accusatory pose angled directly at the woman across from her. "And I'm not talking about in bed." Frankie's lips curled into a smile and Allison's hand on Grace's thigh flinched ever so slightly.

"Frankie, really." Grace tossed her fork onto her plate where it clattered against the porcelain.

"It's okay, Grace." Allison reached for her hand and squeezed it. "I'm an attorney."

"It seems our Grace has a thing for attorneys." Frankie laughed.

"I don't have a thing for them." Grace insisted. "And you had a thing for attorneys as well!" Grace had retrieved her fork and now pointed it back in Frankie's direction.

"And look at how well that worked out for the both of us."

Allison removed her hand ever so tenderly and Grace could feel the extraction in every inch of her body. There was a shift away, a polite, gentle shift from her and she was bereft, left feeling like the wind had been knocked out of her lungs. "Allison," Grace turned to her, an apology lingering in her eyes but Allison daintily wiped the corner of her lips.

"I really must get back to the office. Thank you for lunch, Grace. Really it was delicious." Allison stood from the table and Grace followed suit, Frankie also finding the need to stand. Grace wished she would leave them alone, would run off to her studio, but she hung on, stayed within hearing and seeing and reaching and touching range.

Grace was flustered, uncertain as to what to say. It would sound desperate to promise to call, to ask when they might see one another again. She felt rage, anger at Frankie because she had ruined things. She should have never agreed to this lunch.

"It's okay, Grace." Allison whispered as they stood at the threshold of the door. "It was nice to meet you Frankie." Allison acknowledged the woman hovering behind them and then pulled Grace to her, almost hesitantly. "We'll talk later." She whispered and then pressed her lips to Grace's and the kiss conveyed some sort of finality to it.

Grace felt her chest tighten and she longed to reach out and pull Allison back but instead she allowed her to walk away.

When she finally worked up the courage to close the door and face Frankie she had no words. There was nothing for her to say.

Frankie stood, coming down from her high, registering the lost expression on Grace's face.

"Why would you do that Frankie? Why?" And there was only a moment before she darted out of Frankie's reaching grasp, out of Frankie's apology and then raced up the stairs to barricade herself in her room.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

She was certainly glad that Frankie had been stowed away in her studio when she'd dared to make her escape that evening. No sign of the woman at all, no evidence that she even shared a home with her except for the discomfort and anger that spread through her entire being as she slid out of the home, away from it, glad to put distance between herself and what had grown to be her nightmare.

She couldn't have Frankie and now she was losing Allison whom she had only begun to get to know and genuinely liked very much.

She felt pathetic to be here, to be seated at the side of the apartment door through which she had traversed easily during her past few visits. Now there were no lights on inside and no sign of the woman who lived within. She had vanished as soon as she had appeared, or so it seemed. Grace should pull herself up, pull her aching, tired body up and take herself back home and face Frankie, but for some reason she couldn't.

The elevator dinged and Grace looked up hopefully.

The woman stepped from the elevator, at first not registering the errant body in the hallway, eyes focused on extracting her keys from her pocket. Then she saw her. Their eyes met.

"Grace," Allison's voice held a sort of amusement at finding her there. On the ground in front of her apartment.

"I didn't mean to seem untoward, I just couldn't leave things the way we did." Grace tried to explain, hoping that she didn't appear some kind of nuisance, stalking her prey.

"Nonsense," Allison laughed and upon reaching the older woman realized that she needed a hand. "Come inside. We'll talk." Allison extended her hand and Grace graciously took it, thankful for the help up. How was it that when you reached a certain age your body no longer heeded to your wants?

"Thanks," Grace patted the dust from her behind and followed Allison into her apartment.

"Would you like some tea?" Allison asked, settling her purse atop a counter, slipping out of her shoes and padding into the kitchen as she had that first night. Only now she did not kiss Grace with those soft, hungry lips. Now she was acting like a friend might. Tears threatened to prick the corners of Grace's eyes and she fought hard to keep herself together. She was exhausted though, having hardly consumed anything that day.

"I'm making you some tea." Allison answered for her, noticing the paleness of her face.

"I'm sorry about today." Grace spoke as if she had not heard Allison at all. "I'm sorry about Frankie. She got a little high before lunch and then just…ruined it."

Allison sighed, "she didn't ruin anything."

"Oh, yes she did. She's absolutely crazy sometimes and her crazy was most definitely showing today." Grace half-heartedly received the cup of tea that Allison pressed into her hands.

"Grace," Allison leaned her hip up against the counter, "I think she's a very interesting character. I actually did enjoy meeting her, but my dear. She's very much in love with you."

"What? No, she's not!" Grace insisted.

Allison laughed, "I thought that you had an unrequited love situation, to which I could normally relate. I thought that she would be straight and uninterested but the way she behaved- "

"Was completely insane." Grace couldn't hear this, didn't want to hear this.

"Grace," Allison placed her hand on Grace's arm, forcing her attention back to the matter at hand. "Perhaps she's not the woman you ever imagined you would fall in love with. I see you Grace, you're beautiful and sophisticated and you have been so constrained in your life with Robert and your business. I'm what you would love to have, not in an egotistical sort of way, but to say that I'm pieced together. Frankie is as opposite you as the North pole is from the South, but I think it's what you need, what you deserve and she's so in love with you. I can't compete with that."

Grace could feel the air running in and then rushing out of her lungs and for a moment she thought she might be hyperventilating. "No, no." Was all she could mumble. "Please…" What was she pleading her for? To not tell her this? To keep going as if it had never happened? To have Allison take it back? To not tell her that Frankie _could_ love her?

"I really do care for you. I would have liked to see where this would have taken us, but it seems like you have something really special with Frankie. I don't want to stand between that."

"But she was just about to leave, to go away with Jacob. She might even still." Grace insisted.

"She won't." Allison shook her head, pulling some items from the refrigerator to make dinner.

"She won't even talk to me about it." Grace put up her hands and then sighed. "Oh, I really shouldn't even be talking with you about this. I've already put you through enough as it is."

"No, really. It was lovely. Just not in the cards for us." Allison smiled at her, genuinely.

"But what if you're wrong." Grace insisted, still not ready to accept it. It couldn't be true. The deranged woman she lived with could not be the great love of her life. No, someone much like Allison – she was surprised by how easy it was to accept this dream person as a woman – would be her ideal and she realized then that perhaps love had no outward signs, could not be logically counted upon to bring about the person you thought it might. No, it was all chance and her heart had found Frankie. "Fuck." She groaned.

"I think you need to talk to her," Allison brushed at Grace's cheek, surprising her with her tenderness and care.

"Oh, Allison. I'm so sorry." Grace reached for her hand, held it in her own.

"I'll survive. Please stop apologizing. She's very lucky to have your love." Allison kissed her hand. "Stay for dinner, my treat."

But food was the furthest thing from Grace's mind. Her stomach was in knots and she felt nervous as a teenager might. How ridiculous to be in this position. This felt foolish. Grace couldn't be here with this lovely woman anymore. She couldn't invade her space any more than she foolishly had already. "No, I should go."

"Grace," Allison caught her hand one more time. "Please do keep in touch. This isn't a goodbye forever. At least I hope it's not."

Grace felt tears stinging her eyes and she took a deep breath. "No, I certainly hope not, either."

"Good. Now you need to go get your girl." Allison pulled her in and pressed her lips to her cheek. "I'll miss you."

Grace felt the tear trickle down her cheek and made her hasty exit. But upon reaching her car she couldn't will herself to go home. She could not physically steer the car in the direction of the beach house, the direction of Frankie. This was not the time to see her, to face her.

She had no idea of where it was that she was headed. Her car seemed to steer itself of its own volition and then she found herself driving down the familiar road, watching as cookie-cutter house after cookie-cutter house lined the straight street. This was what she was leaving behind, had already left behind when Robert had left her.

The lights were on in the downstairs windows and she could sense motion in the upstairs windows. There was life in the home that she had raised her family in. There was life and happiness and movement. A new family with their own secrets, their own stories. And she was no longer a part of that home. She was seventy-two and she felt lost. She longed for her mother to appear, to tell her what to do next. (Though she wasn't sure she would ever tell her mother what she had done or whom she was in love with. The woman had actually met Frankie once and had not deigned her worth speaking with ever again.) Things felt too heavy, too complicated.

She went to the only place that seemed to make any sense. To the one person who could listen, could possibly understand.

"Mom, what are you doing here?"


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Am I interrupting something?" Grace half expected her eldest daughter to have some man lingering in the background. Knowing Brianna, she went through men like they were disposable, one just like the other. Sometimes Grace wished she would settle down, but she also knew that she was her mother's daughter and would never fully be satisfied. Well not until she found that special someone and Grace wanted, hoped that for her. For half-hearted relationships were nothing in comparison to the real deal. Or so Grace was learning. Too late. Much too late.

"No, just about to settle in for Wednesday night's line up of shows. You know I can't miss Empire." Brianna ushered her mom into the door, noting the worried expression, knowing that this wasn't just a regular drop in. Actually, when did Grace just ever drop in on her daughter? "What's going on mom?" Brianna inquired when she got no response from the rather distraught woman that tumbled in and collapsed on her couch.

"Don't you have anything to drink around here?" Grace inquired, realizing she hadn't had a martini all day and she _really_ needed a martini.

"A woman after my own heart. I was just about to shake up a martini. Guess I'll make that two." Brianna disappeared into her kitchen and then returned with two very full, very powerful martinis.

"That's good." Grace applauded after the first burning sip slid down her throat. She ate at the olive, realizing she was hungry after all.

"Should we order a pizza or something?" Brianna seemed to be skating around the issue and for that Grace was thankful.

"Pizza sounds good enough." Grace hadn't had pizza in ages. But it felt like just the comfort food she needed. Some good pizza and martinis and maybe Frankie would drift off and she would never have to think about her again. Maybe the whole day hadn't happened and Allison would be waiting for her if she ventured home.

"You're really subdued right now and I can't believe you actually agreed to pizza." Brianna stared long and hard at her mother after she placed the order. "What have you done with my mother? Where are you hiding her?"

Grace rolled her eyes to the ceiling, her body folding into the couch. Exhausted. "Can I sleep here tonight?" It felt comfortable enough.

"Okay, what happened with Frankie?" Brianna laughed, seeming to catch on to what it was that was happening. Though she had no idea. No earthly clue what was _actually_ going on.

 _Hey, your mother is gay. Your mom is in love with Frankie. Frankie, that crazy lunatic of a woman who is so loving and kind and generous and helpful and peaceful and good-natured and everything I'm not._

No, she couldn't say any of that.

"Oh, you know." Grace sighed, sipping her martini.

Brianna stared on, still not convinced. "No, I really don't. You fight all the time. You might as well be married."

Grace nearly sputtered out her drink at the words. "Don't be ridiculous, Brianna." Grace wiped at her lips, sitting up so that she could catch her breath.

"God, mom. I was only joking. You and dad can't both be gay." Brianna laughed, but Grace did not.

Brianna's eyes met hers. Watched as Grace's eyes widened in bewilderment.

"Oh, God. Mom." Brianna braced herself on the couch, her Wednesday night shows forgotten. "Oh my God. Did you and Frankie…"

"NO! No, God. No." Grace groaned, clutching for a throw pillow and burying her face in its fabric. "No." _But I wish it had._

"Oh my God." Brianna gasped. "What happened, mom?" She pried the pillow from her mother and forced her to look at her. "What happened? Did you kiss Frankie? I always thought you would kiss her first."

"You've played that out in your mind?" Grace grimaced, confusion etched in her brow.

"Oh, Mallory and I have already placed bets. If you tell me that you kissed her first she'll owe me $500. I'm going to call her right now!" Brianna reached for her phone but Grace intercepted, hitting the phone to the ground.

"No one kissed no one first." Grace grasped at her daughter's hands.

"What do you mean? Why are you avoiding Frankie then?" Brianna looked confused.

"I met someone." Grace mumbled over the words.

"I see and what does this have to do with…" Brianna was trying to keep up but Grace's lack of detail kept her at a loss. Grace was at a loss that her own daughters had betted upon her and Frankie kissing. Was it so obvious to everyone except herself?

"She met Frankie today."

"Wait!" Brianna gasped. "Wait, you met a _woman_?"

Grace nodded, pulling the pillow back into her lap and wrapping her arms about it as if it were a teddy bear.

"You're with a woman?"

" _Was_ with a woman." Grace corrected, finding it painful to word. "Frankie ruined it."

"How did Frankie ruin it Did she do some voodoo bullshit and scare her away?" Brianna's brow was so creased that the lines in her forehead looked nearly permanent.

"Because I'm in love with her." Grace whispered.

"You're in love with this woman?" Brianna was not following.

"No," Grace sighed. "With Frankie."

Brianna's face shifted from confused to amused to shocked. "Oh my God."

"I know." Grace moaned into the pillow, falling back into the couch again. "Can I stay here?"

Brianna, miraculously, had no words.

"Say something!" Grace finally yelled, slapping her daughter with the pillow. "Don't make me feel crazier than I already do."

"Mom," Brianna scooted a little closer to her. "Mom, I'm so proud of you! I feel like I need to hug you."

"Why?" Grace felt awkward as her daughter's arms wrapped about her and she was pulled into the strangest hug of her life.

"Mom, everyone knew you were crazy about her. You've finally admitted it out loud. And now you can tell her and you guys can go be gay together or whatever. You already live together so you're already like fifty steps ahead of other lesbians."

"Brianna, be reasonable. I don't even know if she feels the same." Grace worried her lip.

"Oh Mom, please. She might not have admitted it to herself yet, but trust me. You have nothing to worry about." Brianna patted her just as the pizza arrived. "You're going to stuff your face and then we're going to get this sorted out. And if you haven't answered one of the fifty calls from Frankie that I see flashing on your phone then you should probably let her know where you are. You know she hates being at the beach house alone."

Grace groaned. It was like her daughter and Frankie were in cahoots together. Why was Grace always the responsible party that had to protect everyone?

Later that evening, once Brianna was in tucked away in her own bed and Grace was left to the guest room she picked up her phone, staring at the missed calls and texts. All from Frankie.

'I'm sorry, Grace.'

'Eating all the salt in the house.'

'Please call me. Just let me know ur ok.'

'Need Del Taco. ASAP. 911.'

There were voicemail messages left, too.

"Message number five. I have pulled out the bag of tater tots. I am about to prepare them in the microwave because they are delicious. I really enjoyed those gummy bears you let me have today at lunch."

"Message number eight, Grace. Please just…let me know you're okay. I'm…I'm sorry, okay? It was a little irresponsible to get high today. Your girlfriend is pretty. Very young. How old did you say she was?"

"Message number ten. Call me. I'm watching this show on HGTV about those tiny houses Coyote has. Maybe I should get one, too. What do you think? I could get chickens then. Well, actually where would you keep chickens in a tiny house that moves?"

Grace found tears pouring down her cheeks, no longer annoyed by Frankie's antics. Finding them somehow endearing. She should call her back, should let her know she was alive and okay.

"Grace!" Frankie practically screamed through the phone. "Where are you? Are you okay?"

"I'm okay, Frankie. I'm at Brianna's. I'm staying here tonight." Grace explained levelheadedly. Not too much detail, just enough.

"Was I that awful today?" Frankie pouted through the phone.

"No, of course not." Grace sighed. "Can we talk about this tomorrow?" Yes, she would put it off. She would wait and then maybe her feelings would evaporate overnight and she could go back to Allison.

"You promise you're not at Allison's? The last time you lied about sleeping over at one of your daughter's houses…"

"Frankie, I'm not lying about anything. I am at Brianna's." Grace's steady voice seemed to assure Frankie of this fact.

"Did I ruin things?"

Grace squeezed her eyes shut, fighting off the tears. No, she hadn't. Not really. "No…no, Frankie let me explain tomorrow. In person. Please."

"Okay." Frankie didn't sound assured of this. "But Grace?"

"Yes, Frankie."

"Make sure you bring me Del Taco. And some more sprinkles."

"Frankie?"

"Yes, Grace?"

"Did you really eat the tater tots?"

"Of course not. I threw them out."

"Good," Grace smiled up at the ceiling. "Good night, Frankie."

"You'll be here if I need to call you in the middle of the night?"

"Of course, Frankie." Grace rolled her eyes, wiping at the crease of the left one.

"Good night, Grace."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

She rummaged through the glove compartment of her car, remembering that somewhere hidden in the back was the stale pack of cigarettes that Frankie hand she had gotten several months prior during a brief trip to Ojai. She fumbled for them, her fingers wrapping about the packaging, knowing that it was too early for a drink so this would be her poison of choice.

She extracted one sad looking cigarette from the pack and then realized she didn't have anything to light it with. Groaning to herself, cigarette dangling from her lips, she fumbled about in her purse for an errant pack of matches or anything that might help. The heat of the day was slowly ascending upon her and she felt flustered, frustrated for the day was hardly going her way.

As if by some stroke of genius, she located a packet of matches from a restaurant she and Frankie had shared a meal at several months back. For some reason she'd grabbed up the matches, perhaps marveling at the fact that restaurants even still gave them out. Whatever her motivation, she thanked her past self for thinking to pick them up.

The smoke from the cigarette had gone stale and tasted flat. She grimaced and rolled down the window to let in the morning air, to let out the cloud of silver haze about her. Her hand was shaking as she started the car. There was only one option. To return to Frankie. To talk to her and Grace felt there was no more time to pussy-foot around the issue. They would talk and they would have this out and no matter the outcome Grace would be okay. At least she assured herself of this. It would be awkward for a few days since they lived together, but perhaps they could get over it, work through this together.

The path home seemed to take less time than she'd imagined but by the time she'd made it to the beach house she'd finished off two terrible cigarettes. She coughed as she made her way to the front door, feeling disgusting in the cloths from yesterday, now drenched in the scent of her attempt at self-medication.

She unlocked the door and peered inside, half expecting Frankie to jump on her as soon as she entered. But upon further inspection the inside was silent. No sound, no movement. Nothing.

It felt empty without Frankie's presence, without Frankie greeting her. Where was Frankie? "Frankie?" Grace called out, tossing her purse atop the table – miraculously clean from yesterday's meal that she'd abandoned after Allison had left. There was a relief to it, that Frankie had actually cleaned something, had gotten rid of the evidence that yesterday had ever happened.

But where was she? "Frankie?" She called out again, checking the kitchen, the sitting room, the living room before moving out to the studio. Surely Frankie was inside painting or sleeping. It was early, after all.

She knocked at the studio door. "Frankie?" But as she stood there the door fell open. Frankie was not insight, was not at her easel, nor was she in her bed. "Where are you?" Grace curled her hands into balls in frustration. The woman was infuriating. Just as she had worked up the courage to face her, she disappeared.

She stomped back into the kitchen in search of some liquid courage. For that was what she needed now that her grand arrival home had hardly done anything. And there was something about Frankie's absence that really jarred her, made her wonder if that was what it would be like if Frankie decided to move away with Jacob.

The thought made Grace's chest clench in a painful contraction. "Oh Frankie, where are you?" She murmured to herself as she reached for the bottle of vodka. Though her hand stopped at the handle of the cabinet when she caught sight of the ocean spread out before her through the kitchen window. There, spread out on the beach, was the form of the very woman she sought. Her hair blew errantly in the wind, the ty-dye of her dress stood out against the tan sand.

A smile crossed Grace's lips as she regarded her, sitting there on the beach, smoke curling from her lips. There was something hilarious to the thought of Frankie getting high on the beach. Yesterday Frankie's pot use had irritated Grace. Today it endeared her to her.

Reaching for a muffin, Grace removed her shoes and headed to the beach.

It was already a warm day, the sun high in the sky but the beach seemed empty, devoid of others. The smell of the marijuana accosted her senses as she moved up closer to Frankie, not wanting to sneak up on her, though not knowing what to say upon reaching her.

"Let me guess." Frankie had sensed her presence though. Her voice floated to Grace on the wind. "You forgot to bring me Del Taco."

"That would be correct, but I also googled the sodium content and I will not be bringing you Del Taco ever again. I brought you a muffin instead. Not sure if you ate breakfast or not. I figured you'd get hungry after you smoked anyway." Grace held out the treat before sinking down into the sand beside her roommate, her friend. Perhaps this was enough, to have Frankie there beside her, to live alongside her. Who said she needed to have a sexual relationship with her?

But she felt the want to reach out and take Frankie's hand in her own.

"How kind of you," Frankie smiled at her, passing the blunt off to her once she was settled. "I was just thinking that I wish I'd brought a muffin with me. It's like you read my mind." Frankie bit into the baked good, a look of pure delight etched in her features.

"You better save some of that for me." Grace laughed as she exhaled a stream of smoke.

"I like smoking with you." Frankie grinned.

"We should do it more often, shouldn't we?" Grace smiled.

"You smell like cigarette smoke." Frankie's grin turned into something else, morphed into a slight look of worry.

"Oh, yeah. I had a few." Grace felt it was useless to lie about it.

"What is really going on Grace?" Frankie leaned back in the sunlight, as if giving Grace the privacy to say what she really needed to say.

"Things ended with Allison." Grace pulled at the blunt again and stared out across the ocean. Endless ocean, endless water.

"I'm sorry, Grace." Frankie didn't even have a snarky remark for her, something to make her annoyed with her for being the reason it had all come to a crashing halt. She wanted to be mad with her but she wasn't.

"Oh, don't be." Grace batted some sand off her foot.

"Was it something I said? Was she too appalled by the gummy bears?" Frankie attempted to lighten the mood.

Grace laughed lightly, "no. Nothing like that."

"Then what?" Frankie took back the blunt and handed the muffin to Grace.

This was her moment. This was the moment to just come out with it and be done with it and put it on the table and hang it all out. They were high, she could always blame it on that later, couldn't she?

"She thought," Grace stopped. How could she say it? "I told her some things and she…well she felt like she couldn't compete with you."

"Of course she can't compete with me. I'm unbeatable." Frankie punched out her chest proudly, holding up her arms as if it were a muscle competition.

"Stop it, you'll hurt yourself." Grace pulled at her arms and they dissolved into laughter.

"Please, I'm not that fragile." Frankie laughed. "I don't even know what I'm competing with her for."

"Me, you dummy." Grace's hands were on either of Frankie's wrists now, pulling her arms back down to her sides, making her look somewhat normal. She knew that the pot hadn't started working yet, but she seemed suddenly transfixed by Frankie's skin. Her fingers unclenched from the woman and she found her fingers were moving of their own volition. They trailed over the soft skin of her friend's arms. "Really, you have exquisite skin."

"Grace," Frankie grabbed at Grace's hands, entwining their fingers for a brief moment to try and grasp her attention. "Grace, you're such a fool." Frankie released her hands, cupped at Grace's cheeks. She pulled her towards her, their lips moving ever so closer together.

They were going to kiss. Frankie was going to kiss her. Her brain was running slower than the rest of her body. Their lips found one another, gentle at first, delicate, controlled and then Grace wrapped her arms about Frankie, pulling her closer to her. There was a breaking open that occurred within her. As if her heart had shattered in two, had opened up to allow Frankie's soul to enter, and then piece itself back together as a more whole, stronger organ. It thudded in her chest, tears pricking her eyes as she felt Frankie holding onto her just as tightly as she was clinging to Frankie.

"Oh God," Grace gasped when they dared to part.

It seemed Mallory was the winner of $500.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Water poured over her, washing the previous day from herself, washing away the remnants of all that had worried her, had addled her brain, made her go insane. As the water swirled down the drain she felt herself getting lighter and lighter if it were possible. Her fears, her concerns all seemed to melt away as she cleaned herself, eager to return to Frankie who had taken up residence in her bed while she showered away the stench of self-deprecation and fear.

There was a new thud in her chest, a new flutter each time she considered her roommate who was now something more than a roommate, more than a friend, near lover, she supposed.

The water stopped flowing from overhead and Grace stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel about herself. "Do you think we'll really need these condoms?" Frankie's voice fluttered in from the other room. The voice of the woman she loved asking her ridiculous questions.

"Are you going through my bedside table?" Grace called back, toweling off her hair, staring intently in the steamy mirror at her tired reflection. This was the face of seventy-three. Seventy-three and in love.

"I like to know the people I am involved with intimately." Frankie's voice reasoned. "Grace!"

Grace wrapped herself tightly in the towel and stuck her head out from the bathroom. "What?"

"You have my yam lube." Frankie held up the first bottle, still with Frankie's artwork wrapped around it, triumphantly.

Grace's lips curled into a smile. "I'm going to put on clothes and then we can…get back to whatever it was that we were doing."

"Kissing," Frankie spoke definitively. "Though really Grace, I don't think you need to put clothes back on."

"Oh no, I most certainly need to put clothes back on." Grace decided it was prudent, for she didn't want to just jump into bed with Frankie. Not yet. There was something to the thrill of waiting, for now she knew what it was to be with a woman and she loved it, reveled in it. She knew that with Frankie it would set her on edge and they still had so much to talk about, to cover, to understand.

Once she had slipped into a loose shirt and some comfortable yoga pants, Grace sat on the bed to apply lotion and found Frankie studying the vibrator they had made together. "You really like this a lot, don't you?" Frankie inquired.

"I certainly do." Grace took the object from Frankie, planting a kiss on her lips as she did so.

"Perhaps I could try it on you." Frankie seemed to be fifty steps ahead.

"You would use this during…" Grace looked confused as she stared from the purple object to Frankie.

"What the hell were you doing with the vanilla lawyer?" Frankie sat up in the bed to face Grace.

"I don't want to talk about her anymore." Grace spoke finitely.

"Fine by me." Frankie reached out for Grace's hand.

"But I do want to talk about this." Grace took her hand reluctantly and felt her skin light on fire as they touched.

"You know I think you analyze and think and talk about things too much." Frankie stroked over the back of Grace's hand with her thumb, as if a balm to help calm her. And the touch did serve to soothe her.

Though she had to know. "Are you still considering going with Jacob."

"Oh yes, I thought I would pack up and leave tomorrow." Frankie looked thoughtfully up at her.

"Cut it out." Grace dropped her hand as if it had burned her. How she had fallen for this clown of a woman was beyond her.

"Grace," Frankie reached for her hand again. "What do you think? I kissed you, didn't I? I'm in your bed. I'm not sure how much more obvious I can be."

"Well it wasn't very obvious. Not when you were considering leaving." _Me._ The word bounced around in her head.

"Didn't you see how hard that was for me? You didn't even give me any hints, no clues at all. And then you ran off with another woman." Frankie looked exasperatedly at her, as if she should have always known that Frankie was mad for her.

"I had no idea," Grace felt tears prickling at her eyes and she wiped at them gently with her free hand.

"I'm not going with Jacob. I can't leave you." Frankie spoke firmly, slowly as if she had to explain herself to a child. "You got me a hot air balloon for Christ's sake."

Grace considered this, feeling terrible then for having not recognized it, or for not approaching it sooner. She pulled Frankie into her, pressing their lips together, not wanting to be apart for long. Frankie's lips were unlike any other lips Grace had ever felt before in her life. For as kooky and off the wall as the woman was, her kisses were assured and confidant. It was like a sweet, intoxicated, controlled drowning. Grace was lost to sea in those lips, feeling every little touch as hands wrapped about her. She allowed their bodies to be swept up in the tide to land gracefully atop the pillows.

"I thought it would ruin our friendship." Grace whispered through kisses, "I thought if I told you…you'd be lost to me. Forever."

"I'm not going anywhere." Frankie assured her in that deep, compassionate voice of hers.

It was a continuation of their friendship, of the love between them that had blossomed and grown over the past few years. Now they were coming together, nothing left between them, no space, no distance. It felt right to be in Frankie's arms, to be wrapped up here in her kisses, in her assured demeanor. Would this have happened all those nights ago after the break-in? If Grace had allowed herself to roll over, to face Frankie. Would Frankie's lips have been so willing and compliant? She wasn't sure, but she was sure of the present moment. Of Frankie there in her arms, kissing her, loving her.

"I might need some snacks soon, though." Frankie quipped.

"I don't think I'll ever understand it." Grace laughed to herself, holding Frankie close to her.

"I don't think I will either." Frankie's hand had wandered upwards, fingers hovering daintily over thin material.

The day stretched on, bringing them from the comforts of Grace's room to a stop in the kitchen for a snack, and then Frankie dragging Grace out to her studio, into her space to show her a painting she had worked on the previous day. "I wanted to paint something for you. To apologize."

Frankie unveiled the photo and Grace found the gesture romantic until she caught sight of the painting before her. "Frankie is that…"

"I thought it perfectly captured you." Frankie looked on at the painting with such pride.

"Why am I holding the vibrator like that?" Grace's brow creased as she looked again.

"You hate it, don't you?" Frankie looked a little disappointed.

"No," Grace put an arm about her, "no. I don't hate it. I just," she tilted her head and looked again. "You know what. It's perfect." She decided, finding that it was perfect because it had come from Frankie. "It's just not going in the main house. Anywhere."

Frankie saluted her and then pulled her to her own, messy bed. "You've never been in my neck of the woods, have you?"

"No, I suppose not." Grace stared up at the tea lights strung up on the ceiling, the Tibetan prayer flags, the crystals lining the window ledge, the sage in a holder, the colors and vibrant life that surrounded Frankie. "It's peaceful here." Grace adjusted her head on the pillow, wrapping her arms about a bright orange throw pillow. "You're right though, not as comfortable as my bed."

Frankie propped herself up, her fingers sliding over the taut skin of Grace's exposed mid-section, seemingly transfixed by her.

Grace's hand moved to cover Frankie's arm, tickling at the soft skin beneath her fingertips. "I was so scared. So fucking scared that day in the car." Grace whispered. "I thought I would lose you then and you didn't take it seriously and I…I can't lose you."

"Let's not think about all of that today." Frankie didn't want to talk about her near-death experience, or the threat of the impending stroke that could or could not happen. Grace knew it, knew that she never wanted to have to face the reality of that ever happening again, but there was a race against time that she keenly felt and she pulled Frankie closer to her. "Unless it helps you to move a little faster."

Grace laughed then, realizing that time was precious, time was not on their side and they had finally found one another and Grace didn't want to lose another minute without Frankie. Frankie in bed beside her, Frankie wrapped about her, Frankie caring for her, worried about her, loving her just as she did Frankie.

"Touch me." Grace pulled Frankie's lips to her own, kissing her passionately.

It was a rebirth, it was a rebuilding, a healing that neither had known the other needed. It was tender and silly at the same time, it was gentle but rough. Grace fell over the edge, tumbled over and crashed into Frankie, met her there in the middle. Their bodies somehow fit together in a way that Grace had never known possible. Allison had been talented but Frankie seemed to know her body as well as she knew her own. There was an intimacy that Grace knew she would never again experience with anyone else.

"I love you," Grace spoke between kisses.

"That took you long enough to say." Frankie nuzzled against her neck, their bodies hot and sweaty against one another.

Grace hit at her with a tired arm. The smack hardly even smacked. "Shut up and admit it."

"I love you, Grace Hanson." Frankie spoke proudly into Grace's heaving chest.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"I don't want to go to a family dinner, Grace," Frankie whined. "And why did you insist I wear this? I'm too dressed up. I want to take it off." She pulled at the dress that Grace had selected for her.

"I thought it would be nice to get dressed up for the family." Grace fluffed her collar, pulling it impossibly higher up about her face.

"Why are you wearing your power suit?" Frankie moved to run a hand over Grace's shoulder, fingers drifting downwards to circle Grace's waist and then to kiss her cheek.

"Stop it," Grace deflected away from her, feeling anxious, nervous for what was about to occur. It was hard to sneak things about behind Frankie's back. Frankie was ever diligent about knowing all and seeing all. Somehow, though, Grace thought she had pulled this off. This one surprise that would alter everything. Yet, it made sense.

"I don't like when you get touchy like this." Frankie exclaimed and moved into the kitchen to retrieve something from the refrigerator. But Grace stopped her.

"We're about to go eat dinner. No more snacking." Grace snapped again, agitated because she was nervous. But Frankie couldn't know so it only served to aggravate the other woman.

"You're being a meanie." Frankie stuck out her tongue.

"We're going to be late, let's get a move on." Grace ignored her antics to collect up her purse and her keys. "I'm driving."

"I'm not an invalid."

"I'm still driving." Grace needed to be in control, needed to have this.

Frankie gave in and ruefully followed Grace from their home. "This already seems like the pits. What is it that Sol and Robert need to discuss with us? Is Mallory pregnant again?"

"God, I hope not!" Grace opened the car door, feeling stealthily about in the contents of her purse for the item. It was safe and sound. Her heart pounded in her chest.

"Can't you give me a little hint?" Frankie asked as they pulled out of the driveway.

"It's just a family dinner is all."

"But you're wearing that perfume I like. The one that doesn't make my head hurt. And you're wearing that scarf I said I sort of liked."

"How very astute of you." Grace grasped at the steering wheel wanting the evening to be finished so that they could get on with it.

It was a good thirty minutes of Frankie questioning her in the car and her about to go insane from it all before they reached Sol and Robert's house. They were ushered inside and found all the children and grandchildren racing about and Sol in the kitchen and Robert mixing drinks.

Grace happily gravitated towards her ex-husband. "Make mine a double." She sighed, leaning up against the wall to catch her breath.

"It's rather adorable." Robert smiled.

"What is?" Grace spoke with annoyance in her tone. Nothing about this was adorable.

"How nervous you are. Now you know how I felt."

"You weren't nervous, were you? With me?"

"Of course I was. I was asking the most beautiful girl at college. Even if I was into the quarter back I could still appreciate how scary it was." Robert assured her, handing her off the martini before patting her on the back. "She's going to love it." He assured her, leaning in ever so slightly.

"Mom, Frankie is seriously freaking out. I think she's about to go get high with Sol." Brianna quickly grasped her mother. "You better just get on with it."

Grace gulped, then swallowed down half the martini. "All right, all right." She whispered at Brianna. She pulled a knife from atop the counter and clinked it briskly against the side of the martini glass. "Everyone? Excuse me. Can I have your attention?" Grace was happy for the slight buzz she was already experiencing. God, Robert's drinks were strong. No wonder why she'd married him in the first place.

"Grace, what is all of this pageantry?" Frankie appeared before her.

"I have something that I want to say, something…important. To you." Grace groped about in her purse on the counter beside her. "I never, ever imagined that I would be here. Not in a million years. I think we hated one another when we first met, probably for the first twenty years we knew one another. I tolerated you."

"I love you, too." Frankie touched her cheek lightly.

"Now, hold on. I have to get this out, Frankie, or else I'll lose the nerve." Grace stopped her. "But you were there when everything was falling apart. When our ex-husbands decided to be gay together and the whole world was turned upside down…you…you were there. For me."

"Of course I was." Frankie seemed to not have caught on to what was happening.

"Frankie, I never thought I would love you but I do and now," she extracted the box and there was still that blank look on Frankie's face. "I thought it made sense to just get it done in front of everyone because I can't…" Grace felt tears even if Frankie had no idea what was happening, only that curious, blank look on her face as she stood before Grace. It made her heart melt. "I can't imagine spending another day without you. Not a single day longer without you."

"I'm not going anywhere Grace, I thought we discussed that."

"Shut up, Frankie. Damn it. You asked me once when I was the best version of myself and when I'm with you that's when I'm the best version of myself. You make me who I've always wanted to be and I want to marry you." Grace thrust the box towards her. "I'd get on my knee but I don't think I could get back up."

Frankie held the box in her hands as if it were the most precious thing she'd ever beheld in her life. And it was only the box.

"Open it." Grace felt the air trapped in her lungs, as if she were incapable of breathing out.

"But first," Frankie looked up at her.

"What?" Grace asked, annoyed with her for taking so long.

"Grace, you know I'd married you in a heartbeat."

"Aww," Mallory clasped her hands together somewhere off to the side, capturing Grace's attention. Grace could see the tears in her eyes, how proud she was. It softened her only a little before she realized that Frankie was still standing there with the stupid box cuddled in her hands. Was she planning on wearing the box around for the rest of her life?

"Well you'd better look at the damn ring." Grace pushed the box again and waited for Frankie to open it.

She finally did. Her eyes widened, captivated by the smooth surface of the stone. "Oh, Grace. This is…" Frankie pulled the ring from the box. The gold band shimmered in the light, the deep blue stone setting her eyes alight with wander.

"It's a crystal, like the ones you have. I thought it made more sense than a diamond. Fuck diamonds, I already had a diamond and it just didn't seem right for you."

"A lapis lazuli, oh Grace. It's beautiful." Frankie pulled their bodies together, damn the family around them, it was them in that moment and Frankie's lips found hers. Under any other circumstance Grace would have pulled away, but not with Frankie. Damn the kids and the ex-husbands and the babies tottering by. Fuck them all. Grace had found her person and she was going to kiss her in front of everyone and they were going to be together now. For real. Forever. No more Jacobs, no more hatred to keep them apart.

Grace sobbed against her shoulder as they melted together, relief washing over her. It had gone as smoothly as she had imagined it in her mind. She hadn't known she would cry until that moment, but she realized she genuinely loved this woman. This crazy, reckless, wild, hippie woman.

And now…now there would no more time wasted. Now would be then and now, the present moment. No more longings, no more unfulfilled desires. They were bonded together for the rest of their days as one, as it should have always been. Like a comical Shakespearian play that perhaps would have ended with such oddball couples if he had written his plays in the 2000s. The matches had been restored anew, righted from the wrongs they had suffered for so many years. And now they were surrounded by their own children, by the men who had helped to raise them, the children their children had created and all was right.

All was love.


End file.
